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Vera cleared her throat. Where was Graeme when she needed him? ‘Are you allowed to say that word, Poppy Cody?’

‘In dire circumstances.’

She could see the girl’s point.

‘Kelly,’ said Josh, his tone even louder than the woman’s. ‘Getting a job to support your family is not “running out”. Now, why don’t you stop bitching about ancient business and let me buy you a drink for old times’ sake, hey? How about you, Braydon? My daughter Poppy makes a double-fudge chocolate macadamia sundae that ought to be banned, it’s so good. What do you say?’

The woman wasn’t saying anything nice. ‘Don’t you sweet-talk me. I’ve never been so insulted as the day you turned us away from your clinic.’

‘Mum. I’d kinda like a sundae.’

Vera knew a silver lining when she heard one. ‘That’s your cue,’ she said to Poppy. ‘You get the kid to this end of the counter and start layering up as many sugar-rich calories as you can into a sundae dish. I’ll wrangle the mother away from your dad.’ She smoothed down her apron, took a deep breath, then glided over in her most Graeme-like way.

‘Good evening. Welcome to The Billy Button Café. Can I show you to a table?’

‘Oh, well. I’m not sure—’

Vera scanned the café, looking for a table as far from Josh as possible. ‘Table six! Right near the bookcase.’ She herded the woman in and ransacked her brain. What would Graeme do?

She had it. ‘What a heavenly scarf. I love that coral colour on you.’

‘Oh.’ The woman ran a hand through her hair. ‘Well, it’s new, I bought it on a girls’ weekend in Melbourne, so thank you for noticing.’

‘My name’s Vera,’ she said, and pulled menus from her apron and laid them on the table. ‘The dessert special for moviegoers tonight is sticky date pudding, half price if you hand in your movie ticket, or we have our regular menu available as well.’

She shot a look over to the counter where Poppy gave her a thumbs up. Peace had been restored, and it had just taken a little ingenuity and schmooze. Teamwork. Just one of the many skills she’d acquired since moving to Hanrahan. ‘I’ll be back to take your order in a bit.’

Sixteen mains, the movie-dessert deal for four couples and only one broken glass later, the evening rush was over and just the honeymoon table was still busy: Marigold and Kev lingering over a drunken tiramisu trifle for two.

A deep voice by her side had her jumping so bad she rammed her thumb into the sliding door of her dessert cabinet.

‘You slice a neat piece of tart, Vera.’

Josh. She blamed her racing heart on the start he’d given her. And the three coffees Graeme had made her this afternoon before he’d headed home.

She looked up at him, thankful that Poppy had retired to the kitchen to run crockery through the dishwasher. She’d had time to rethink that breathy moment in the vet’s foyer, and all the sparks of awareness she’d felt the next half-dozen times she’d laid eyes on her young waitress’s dad—and the thoughts had all come to the same resounding conclusion: she didn’t do relationships. Period. Regardless of temptation.

She looked down into her pristine display cabinet. ‘I like to keep things neat and tidy. No mess, no jagged edges, no getting muddled up with the topping on the desserts either side.’

He grinned. ‘You talking about desserts? Or yourself?’

She frowned. Hotandperceptive. It was an unfair mix. She hunted for a change in topic.

‘We’ll be sad to say goodbye to Poppy. She’s worked so hard this week, and the customers have grown very fond of her.’

‘I’m more thankful than you know. To see her here, surrounded by the community, fitting in … it’s just the change from city life I was hoping she would experience.’

She snorted. ‘Hanrahan is definitely not the city.’

He slanted her a look. ‘Where exactly did you move up from? I asked you before, but I don’t think you said. Canberra?’

She didn’t feel quite so defensive this time about answering his questions. Why that was, she wasn’t sure. ‘Queanbeyan.’

‘Huh. You support Canberra or New South Wales come grand final time?’

She smiled. ‘Not everyone’s a rugby league tragic, Josh.’

‘So true. I’m more of a museum and jazz club person than a footie bloke.’